e surprised
when I come down on her. I'll watch her; she sha'n't escape me. And as
for _him_--well, we'll see, Mr. David, we'll see!"

As the clock in the hall in Castle Mona was striking eight these
good souls in these wise humors were making their several ways to the
waterfall under the cliff, in the darkest part of the hotel grounds.

Davy got there first, going in by the gate at the Onchan end. It struck
him with astonishment that Lovibond was not there already. "The man
bragged of coming, but I don't see him," he thought. He felt half
inclined to be wroth with Lovibond for daring to run the risk of being
late. "I know someone who would have been early enough if he had been
coming to meet with somebody," he thought.

Presently he saw a female form approaching from the thick darkness at
the Douglas end of the house. It was a tall figure in a long cloak, with
the hood drawn over the head. Through the opening of the cloak in front
a light dress beneath gleamed and glinted in the brightening starlight.
"It's herself," Davy muttered, under his breath. "She's like the silvery
fir tree with her little dark head agen the sky. Trust me for knowing
her! I'd be doing that if I was blind. Yes, would I though, if I was
only the grass under her feet, and she walked on me. She's coming! My
God, then, it's true! It's true, Davy! Hould hard, boy! She's a woman
for all! She's here! She sees me! She thinks I'm the man?"

In the strange mood of the moment he was half sorry to take her by
surprise.

Davy was right that Mrs. Quiggin saw him. While still in the shadow
of the house she recognized his dark figure among the trees. "But he's
alone," she thought. "Then the huzzy must have gone back to her room
when I thought she slipped out at the porch. He's waiting for her.
Should I wait, too? No! That he is there is enough. He sees me. He is
coming. He thinks I am she. Umph! Now to astonish him!"

Thus thinking, and both trembling with rage and indignation, and both
quivering with love and fear, the two came face to face.

But neither betrayed the least surprise.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, if I'm not the man------" faltered Davy.

"It's a pity, sir, if I'm not the woman------" stammered Nelly.

"Hope I don't interrupt any terterta-tie," continued Davy.

"I trust you won't allow _me_----" began Nelly.

And then, having launched these shafts of impotent irony in vain, they
came to a stand with an uneasy feeling that something unlooked f